


Worth Every Penny

by Girlwithsixsmiles



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chick-Flick Moments, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, If Arrow were a rom-com, The Wedding Date AU, oliver is a hooker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlwithsixsmiles/pseuds/Girlwithsixsmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak knows she can't show up to her stepsister Laurel's wedding solo. Too bad her boyfriend is no longer in the picture. Desperate, she hires a date for the weekend---well, a male escort, to be precise. She's not sure what to expect, and she certainly doesn't expect what she finds in Oliver Queen. As the ceremony approaches, it's hard to tell who is pretending anymore. </p><p>(AU based on The Wedding Date)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After working on this since March (!!!), I am finally ready to post.
> 
> Thanks to macyaudenstar, thecoolcheryl, and moirariordan for beta-ing.

Somehow, Felicity Smoak had become _that_ girl. The girl who was so desperate to make a good impression at her stepsister’s wedding that she hired someone to be her date. Male escort, to be precise. It still sounded so icky, but it was a testament to how desperate she was. So desperate that her savings account would take a while to recover from the blow that his fee had triggered.

 

For as much money as she was paying for Oliver Queen’s services, this weekend _had_ to go off without a hitch. Was that even his real name? God. She had just given multiple thousands of dollars to a probable con artist!

 

Felicity tried to calm herself down with the knowledge that she had looked into “Oliver” before handing over the cash. His records seemed to indicate nothing too out of the ordinary, just a few brushes with the law for drunk and disorderly, dropping out of a few colleges in his early 20s, nothing that screamed “criminal.” He was clearly successful too, if the penthouse apartment and luxury sports car registered in his name were any indication.

 

If it were any other event, Felicity would have sucked it up and gone solo. She’d been single since the big breakup last summer, and it was fine, really. But god forbid she ruin the wedding photos by not having a date. Her stepsister Laurel was having a destination wedding, tying the knot with her longtime boyfriend Tommy Merlyn. They were the perfect couple, so much so that they could substitute as the photogenic couple from the stock photo found in picture frames.

 

After Felicity’s dad left, it had just been her and her mom. But when Felicity went off to college, Catherine Smoak met Quentin Lance, a divorced police officer with two daughters of his own: the prim and proper Laurel and the wild child Sara. It wasn’t long before they were married, a quick trip to the courthouse, nothing fancy. They’d both been through this before. The girls were all in college at that point, so they never lived under the same roof. Truth be told, the only time they spent together as a family unit was holidays or special occasions.

 

Sure, there were the summers, but Laurel was either interning at some law firm or spending all of her time with Tommy. Sara and Felicity, however, bonded over late night chats. It was almost like summer camp all over again. Then came graduation (Felicity’s, at least. Sara was….taking her time, as she liked to put it.) and landing a job at a tech start-up.

 

The company shared the floor of an office building with a small advertising agency. Too many shared elevator rides with their cute sales guy led to a date, which then led to more dates, which led to moving in together. Carter was everything she thought she wanted in a guy. It was almost _too_ easy to picture their future together. So when she was unceremoniously dumped when she was expecting an important piece of jewelry instead, she felt blindsided. He moved out of their place and avoided her in the hallways at work. Thankfully, she didn’t have to deal with the constant reminder of their failed relationship much longer, as her company expanded to a new office.

 

That didn’t stop her family from pointing out Carter’s glaring absence at every possible moment, however. The ridicule had finally simmered down these past few months, but it was inevitable that it would flare up again at the wedding. Felicity decided to be proactive, to head it off at the pass, but her initial efforts failed. Miserable blind dates, horrific speed dating and wasted time at the gym left her with no viable boyfriend prospects.

 

Time had run out, Felicity ready to accept defeat, when she stumbled across an interesting thread on Reddit. A male escort, who chose to remain anonymous, was conducting an AMA about his lifestyle and line of work. Expecting to see tales of tantric hookups, she was surprised to see his answers were fairly tame and subdued. Mainly, he said, his clients were just looking for companionship, someone to spend time with. It wasn’t all about sex.

 

When Felicity hacked the Reddit servers to get his contact information, she wished she could blame the empty bottle of red beside her, but it seemed like a really good idea at the time. Clearly it was the only idea she had left.

 

She didn’t work up the courage to call him until the next day. She was still nervous, to the point where she wished she had a phone cord to twirl between her fingers. When he answered, she lost her resolve altogether. What do you even say to someone like that?

 

Clearly she had muttered something to the same effect, as his warm laugh echoed through the phone. It wasn’t condescending in the slightest however, just a display of his amusement. “Why don’t you tell me what you want and we’ll go from there?”

 

What did she want? She wanted to not have to be in this situation in the first place. But since that clearly wasn’t the answer he was looking for, she filled him in on her need for a wedding date.

 

“A wedding, huh? Should be fun.”

 

“Doubt it. But hopefully it’ll be a bit more bearable with you there.”

 

They were set to meet at the airport, which meant that Felicity was now running late after having a minor panic attack about the whole situation again. There was no turning back now. After all, she’d already purchased his plane ticket and had transferred money into his PayPal account that morning. (Surely the creators of PayPal intended for their technology to be used for this very purpose.)

 

Luggage in tow, she dashed to the gate just as the attendant announced the final boarding call. Her background check didn’t have any photos of Oliver so she wasn’t quite sure what to expect as she made her way to her seat. Glancing down at her ticket, she set off for coach when a flight attendant intercepted her.

 

“Miss Smoak?”

 

Felicity nodded, confused as to why the attendant was stopping her. She had made the plane in time, so what was the issue?

 

“You’ve been upgraded to first class. Follow me.”

 

Her brow furrowed as she processed the attendant’s words. She had hardly any frequent flyer miles to her name, so there surely must have been a mistake.

 

“I was afraid you were going to back out on me,” a deep voice said from behind her.

 

Felicity turned to find Oliver Queen in the flesh, and oh, what wonderful flesh it was. His sandy hair, piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders, it was too good to be true. He stood before her with a hint of a smile, sleeves of his sweater rolled up as his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans.

 

“I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of upgrading our seats.”

 

“Not at all.” Felicity was impressed. He was smooth.

 

“Come, let’s get you settled.” He put his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their seats. The plush leather was a welcome reprieve from the cramped coach seats she was expecting.

 

Oliver removed the bag hanging from her shoulder with ease and placed it in the stowaway compartment above them. “Window or aisle?” He asked over his shoulder.

 

“Mmm…window. I want to see the water.” Felicity slid past Oliver, collapsing onto the leather. They were headed towards the seaside resort where all of the wedding festivities were taking place. It was also the first so-called “vacation” that Felicity had been able to take in a looooooong time. Not that she would be able to relax. If anything, it would be the opposite, her nerves on edge the entire time. As if on cue, the attendant came back, brandishing a tray. “Champagne?”

 

“Yes, please,” Felicity gushed, leaning over Oliver to snatch the stem extended in her direction. She greedily gulped it down, finishing with a hiccup. “Could I have another?” she asked, covering her mouth with a closed fist.

 

The attendant smiled knowingly at Felicity, refilling her glass before moving on to the next row of passengers.

 

“Thirsty?” Oliver asked with a raised brow and the hint of a smile. It was pretty obvious why he was so successful, she thought as she looked over at him. She didn’t think people actually looked like that in real life. Genetics never worked out _that_ well.

 

Remembering that he had asked her a question, she nodded in response. He didn’t need to know it was liquid courage, but it didn’t take a member of Mensa to figure out that’s what she was doing.

 

“So...your stepsister’s getting married?” Oliver prompted.

 

“Laurel. Gorgeous Laurel. She’s a lawyer, and her fiance Tommy is working for his father’s company. Some conglomerate.”

 

“What’s the rest of your family like?”

 

“I’ve got another stepsister Sara. We’re the same age, but we couldn’t be more different. I love her to death, though.” Felicity scrunched her nose. “Why do you ask?”

 

Oliver shrugged. “Just trying to figure out who you are. Comes in handy for creating a backstory.”

 

“Oh. OH!” Felicity exclaimed in recognition. “I guess we need to come up with one of those, don’t we? Aunt Rita’s pretty nosy, she’ll want to know EVERYTHING.”

 

“Everything? Is that so?” She swore she could almost see a twinkle in his eye.

 

She scoffed and swatted at him, as he laughed.

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be serious. So how did we meet, Miss Smoak? Neighbors? Coffee shop? Mutual friends?”

 

For all of the internal arguments she had about hiring Oliver, she never even stopped to think about constructing a story.

 

“Mutual friends. It’s simpler. But what’s your job? They’ll never buy you as a therapist or an architect.”

 

“Hey!” Oliver protested in mock outrage.

 

“No, therapists and architects don’t look like that.” She brought her hand up to her chin, tapping her finger against her closed mouth. “Personal trainer! That would be believable,” she said, moving her hand to his bicep and squeezing it, then immediately realizing how inappropriate that was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to feel you up---I mean, obviously you’re muscular, anyone with eyes can see that---”

 

Oliver stopped her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Felicity, it’s fine.” If he said anything after that, she certainly didn’t hear it. Maybe the champagne went to her head a little bit, but she couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. They were just so blue. The only thing that snapped her out of her trance was the pilot coming over the loudspeaker telling them to prepare for takeoff. She readjusted herself in her seat and turned to look out the window.

 

She had foolishly brought a book with her, thinking she would read it during the flight, but there was no way she could focus on it now. In the end, she found it easier to pop in her earbuds and attempt to watch the in-flight movie, some mindless, second-rate action comedy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Oliver flipping through some news magazine. He was certainly an enigma. An insufferably good looking enigma, but an enigma nevertheless.

 

Before long, she heard the indicative chime telling her it was time to prepare for landing. She could feel herself tense, knowing that Operation: Fake Boyfriend would be going into action any moment now. Oliver, meanwhile, appeared to be cool and collected, a sensation that was in Felicity’s rearview mirror, long abandoned.

 

“Should we run through our story again?” Felicity averted his gaze as she spoke, picking at the peeling lamination of the safety guide in front of her.

 

The sudden touch of his hands on hers made Felicity’s eyebrows skyrocket as her head jerked up. “We’ve got this,” he said, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. “Although it might help the story if you don’t look so surprised every time I touch you.”

 

“Noted.”

 

After waiting an exorbitant amount of time at the luggage carousel (and surviving a small panic attack that her wedding attire was lost), Felicity collected her things and allowed Oliver to steer her towards the taxi stand. He had been patiently waiting for her with his carry-on. (Of _course_ he had a carry-on, he didn’t have to bring five different pairs of shoes! _Men_.)

 

“Felicity?” Oliver placed his hand on her shoulder. “I think you’ve got someone waiting on you.” He gestured over to where the hired drivers stood, where one “driver” stood out from the rest. Maybe it was the fact that her sign said “Four Eyes” or maybe it was her ripped jeans and faded t-shirt. Maybe it was her long, golden locks in a sea of crew cuts. Regardless, Sara Lance was a sight for sore eyes.

 

“I thought you weren’t getting in until later!” Felicity exclaimed, approaching her stepsister.

 

“I hitched a ride with Dad,” Sara said, pulling her in for a hug.

 

“I missed you.”

 

“Likewise. I must have missed the memo about your new boy toy.” Sara leaned over Felicity, extending a hand to Oliver. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Four Eyes’ sister, Sara.”

 

“Oliver. Nice to meet you.”

 

“What did she promise you in exchange for coming to this thing? Edible lingerie? Striptease?” The shit-eating grin on her face was unmistakable.

 

“ _SARA_!” Felicity admonished. It was nothing new for Sara to cross the line like that, but Oliver didn’t know that.

 

He was unfazed, however, instead grabbing Felicity’s hand. “She didn’t have to promise me anything. I wanted to be here.”

 

“You’ve already got him whipped, I see. He should get along just fine with Tommy.”

 

Brushing that comment aside, Felicity asked, “How’s Laurel doing?”

 

Sara’s smile dimmed slightly. “She’ll be happier now that she sees you have a date. That might make up for me trying to ‘sabotage’ the photos.” Sara quoted with her fingers.

 

“What did you do now?”

 

“Why did I have to _do_ something? She just found out about Ryan, that’s all.”

 

“Ryan? Wedding date Ryan?”

 

“Laurel found out Ryan is a she instead of a he.”

 

“So?” It wasn’t unusual for Sara to have a girlfriend.

 

“Also, I guess Ryan and Tommy had a thing in college.”

 

“Oh.” Felicity cringed. “That’s a little awkward. So what happened?”

 

“Ryan left.” Before Felicity could interject, Sara continued. “And it wasn’t anything Laurel said to her, in case you were wondering.” The Lance sisters weren’t always on the best of terms.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Honestly, we were just hooking up. I only thought I’d bring her to throw off the seating chart. But hey, hooking up with someone at the reception is fair game again! Got any friends?” She asked, looking at Oliver.

 

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Could you keep it in your pants for once?”

 

“I just hope you’re taking off _your_ pants for once,” Sara shot back, eyeing Oliver once more.

 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Felicity huffed. “Can we just go? We need to check in at the resort before dinner.”

 

Felicity, still miffed at Sara for calling her out on her love life, spent the ride from the airport stewing in silence. That didn’t deter Sara in the slightest, as she took that opportunity to grill Oliver.

 

“How did you two lovebirds meet, anyway?” Sara asked as she adjusted her rearview mirror, briefly making eye contact with Felicity in the backseat and winking.

 

“Friend of a friend,” Oliver supplied. “We were at the same dinner party and hit it off. I could just tell there was something special about her.”

 

“How long have you been an item?”

 

“Just a few months. It’s still new, but it’s been going great, hasn’t it, baby?” Oliver reached over and squeezed Felicity’s leg.

 

“Do I see wedding bells in your future too?” Sara teased.

 

“Oh look! We’re here!” Felicity blurted, effectively ending the conversation. She was not pleased with how her heart raced at the slightest touch of his skin. She needed to work on that if she was going to make it through this weekend.

 

Even though Oliver insisted, Felicity took it upon herself to roll her own luggage into the lobby. As she had anticipated, the right wheel got stuck as soon as she tried to change direction. She had been putting off the purchase of new luggage for far too long. On her knees adjusting the wheel, a chill came over her. The voice she heard near the counter sounded eerily familiar. It couldn't be. She certainly didn't invite him. They had broken up long before she had submitted her RSVP (it was a hopeful plus one, damn it!).

 

There Carter Bowen stood, flesh and bone, with his ever-present smug grin, leaning against the counter. His entire demeanor instantly reinforced everything she couldn't stand about him. How could she possibly have thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives together?

 

"Sara!" Felicity hissed from her crouched position. "Why didn't you tell me _he_ was going to be here?" She asked, jerking her head in his direction.

 

"Oh god, I thought you knew." Sara's brow creased. "He's one of Tommy's groomsmen. I guess one of Tommy’s cousins is sick and couldn’t make it. Carter was the only person available to step in at the last minute. Called on his old frat brother to help him out."

 

"He's in the wedding party?!"

 

"Would have made for cute photos if you guys were still together." Sara shrugged helplessly.

 

"That guy's your ex?" Felicity whirled around to find Oliver standing with his bags. She had forgotten he was even there.

 

"More like 'the insufferable douchebag,'" Sara chimed in.

 

"I thought you liked him?!" Felicity sputtered.

 

"I _thought_ we were supposed to hate him," Sara said with a knowing eyebrow.

 

"Whatever. Can you just make sure he doesn't spot me? I'm not ready to talk to him yet. Oliver, do you mind picking up the room key?"

 

"Sure thing."

 

Felicity watched his purposeful stride, noting how imposing his figure looked compared to Carter's.

 

Sara let out a low whistle. "Girl, I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to take my eyes off of him if he were mine either."

 

"Shut up!" Felicity whispered, slapping Sara’s arm as she stood. "Let's get out of here."

 

"Dad texted and said they were by the pool a little bit ago."

 

"Perfect. Lead the way."

 

If it wasn't obvious to the other resort guests that Quentin Lance was the father of the bride, they clearly weren't paying attention. He was boasting to every person he came across, gushing over his girl getting hitched. He might as well have been wearing a button that said "Father of the Bride."

 

The girls found him at the poolside bar, deep into conversation with the bartender. The topic? What else, his eldest daughter's impending nuptials. His Hawaiian shirt fluttered in the breeze, unbuttoned to reveal a thick tuft of chest hair.

 

"Dad, I'm not so sure floral is your style."

 

Quentin turned, eyes lighting up once he realized his stepdaughter was standing behind his snarky biological one.

 

"Felicity! You made it!" Quentin quickly enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. The man always seemed to underestimate his own strength.

 

“Hey Pops.” Felicity couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face. Quentin certainly meant more to her than her biological father, affectionately referred to as the “sperm donor” by her mother. Even though she didn’t meet him until she was basically an adult, he had been there for her ever since, in all the ways that counted.

 

He stood up and cheered the loudest when she graduated from MIT. He helped her move into her first apartment. He showed her how to fix a flat tire. She knew her mother had made the best decision by marrying this man.

 

“Where’s Mom?” Felicity didn’t see Catherine by the pool.

 

“Probably off with Laurel and Dinah harassing the wedding planner.”

 

“Mom’s here?” Sara asked.

 

“She showed up when you went to the airport. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

 

Felicity always thought it was unusual that Laurel and Sara were in Quentin’s care after the divorce because typically the mothers got custody. It made sense for the Lances though, because Dinah was a professor, traveling the globe on her sabbatical. She wanted her girls to stay in a structured environment to continue their schooling.

 

Sara dashed off to find her mother, leaving Felicity and Quentin alone by the pool.

 

“Your mom said you rsvp’d for two. You didn’t get back together with that jerk, did you?”

 

“First of all, no. Second of all, if everyone felt that way about Carter, why didn’t any of you say anything?”

 

“We were trying to be supportive?” Quentin shrugged innocently. “But I’m glad to hear it’s not him. I could’ve sworn I saw him earlier in the parking lot.”

 

“Oh, you did. He’s apparently one of Tommy’s groomsmen. Frat brother. I saw him in the lobby, thus my quick escape to see you.”

 

Quentin let out a disgusted scoff. “So who’s your date then?”

 

“That would be me, sir.” Oliver appeared beside Felicity, setting his luggage down before extending a hand towards Quentin. “Oliver Queen.”

 

“Why is it that I’ve heard nothing about you?” Quentin asked as he took Oliver’s hand in one of his patented “death grips.”

 

To his credit, Oliver didn’t flinch while returning the firm handshake. His obvious muscles clearly weren’t just for show.

 

“It’s still new and I didn’t want to jinx it,” Felicity quickly supplied, surprised she came up with an excuse so fast.

 

“Well, hurt her like the last one and you’ll be public enemy number one.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

 

“Good. Then we won’t have a problem. Why don’t you two go get settled? Give you some time to recharge before the cocktail party.”

 

Felicity and Quentin hugged once more before she departed with Oliver, in search of their room.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Oliver. What’s this?”

 

“I’m pretty sure in most cultures, they refer to it as a bed.”

 

Felicity rolled her eyes as she made her way into their room. “Why is there only _one_? I specifically requested double beds.”

 

“The woman at reception said the double rooms were still being attended to by housekeeping. She gave me keys to the king since you didn’t want to wait. Why? Is it a problem?” Oliver asked, setting his luggage down.

 

“No, there’s no problem. No problem at all,” Felicity muttered.

 

While Oliver hung up his suits, Felicity busied herself by making use of the abundance of pillows provided by the hotel. She set to work constructing a wall that bisected the bed, creating a barrier between the two halves.

 

She could see him shaking his head out of the corner of her eye.

 

“You’re something else, Felicity. I can honestly say this is a first.”

 

She leaned over to adjust a pillow that was teetering, leaving her back to him. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to compliment me or criticize me. Maybe both.”

 

“It’s endearing, really. I’m hopping in the shower now. Be out in a sec.”

 

Turning back around, she saw Oliver walking towards the ensuite bathroom, shirt and pants already discarded. His boxer briefs were halfway off, affording her a nice glimpse of Oliver Queen’s backside. Her jaw dropped in shock. Looking over his shoulder as he closed the door, he made eye contact with Felicity and winked.

 

That smug bastard! He knew exactly what he was doing. And, much to Felicity’s chagrin, it was working. Her heart was definitely beating faster than it was before.

 

She flung a pillow at the closed bathroom door in frustration, hoping it didn’t make an audible thud. The entire purpose of this arrangement was just to put on a good show for the relatives, not moon over someone who was emotionally unavailable.

 

True to his word, the bathroom door opened a few minutes later, Oliver clad in nothing but a low slung towel. Felicity made a mental note to send a tip to the government on how to break female criminals, because this was surely the purest form of torture to ever exist.

 

“All yours.”

 

Felicity stared at him dully for a moment. “Oh! You meant the bathroom.” Her twisted mind instinctively thought he was referring to himself, not the availability of the shower. She quickly hurried past him with her things to avoid future embarrassment.

 

Forcing herself into her regular routine, she tried to push all those stray thoughts aside. Knowing he was just on the other side of the door didn’t help.

 

A nice long hot shower would certainly do wonders for her current mindset. She took her time rinsing her hair, watching the suds inch toward the drain. The festivities hadn’t even officially started and she was already in over her head.

 

Once she remembered that Carter was going to be at the cocktail party, she found a renewed sense of energy. She put her hair up in an elegant french twist, eschewing her trademark frames for her contacts. Carter had always said the royal blue shift dress made her eyes pop. She certainly intended on making him eat his words tonight. Sliding on her heels and putting on a spritz of perfume, she made her way back into the bedroom.

 

Oliver, who had been adjusting his tie in the mirror, turned once he saw Felicity in the reflection. “You look breathtaking.”

 

“Thank you.” She felt herself flush. “That’s what I was going for.”

 

“Shall we?” Oliver extended his arm out to her, which she willingly accepted after grabbing her wrap and clutch.

 

The cocktail party was held on the outdoor terrace outside the ballroom where the wedding reception was set to take place. Guests mingled about while a jazz band played in the corner. The atmosphere screamed “money.” Felicity was sure Tommy’s family was bankrolling this event. The Lances certainly didn’t have the cash for this.

 

Felicity spotted her mother by the bar and steered Oliver in that direction.

 

“I’ll have a glass of Merlot,” Catherine told the bartender.

 

“Make that two,” Felicity added.

 

Catherine whirled around, delighted to see her daughter. “Felicity! You look gorgeous, dear! I’m sorry I missed you earlier,” she said, embracing her.

 

“You look great too, Mom.”

 

“And who’s this?” Catherine asked, turning to face Oliver.

 

“Oliver Queen, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand.

 

“Likewise.”

 

“Hey Four Eyes.” Sara approached, hair piled on her head in a messy updo. It displayed the sunburst tattoo between her shoulders revealed by the cut of her halter dress. Felicity could remember how furious Quentin was when he found out. (Somehow he still didn’t know about the matching one on Felicity’s foot. She was hoping to keep it that way.) “Bridezilla is looking for you.”

 

Felicity looked back at Catherine, who shooed them away. “Go. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later. No need to ruffle Laurel’s delicate feathers right now. She’s very stressed.”

 

Sara snatched Felicity’s wine glass from the counter. “You’ll probably need this. Oliver, you better get one too, just in case.” Oliver signaled for a beer as Sara dragged Felicity away.

 

He caught up with them just as they reached the high top table where Laurel and Tommy were holding court. Laurel looked as gorgeous as ever, in a classic black dress, hair in long, loose curls. Tommy looked handsome in his suit, an easy smile on his face. They looked every bit the perfect couple they were.

 

“Felicity!” Laurel leaned forward, bussing her cheek. “I’m so glad you and your date were able to make it. I’m Laurel and this is my fiancé, Tommy,” she said, turning towards Oliver.

 

“Oliver. Thanks for letting me be a part of your special day.”

 

“What’s your last name, Oliver?” Laurel asked, reaching into a nearby tote bag and pulling out a clipboard. “Felicity didn’t put a name on the RSVP so we couldn’t fill out a placecard.”

 

Oliver stifled a laugh when he heard Sara mumble “Bridezilla” under her breath. “Oliver Queen.”

 

“Queen?” Tommy piped up. “I swear you look like this guy that was at Princeton. What was his name? I remember seeing the pledge photo on the wall at the house, it was just a few years before Carter and I pledged.”

 

While Oliver’s expression revealed nothing, Felicity could see the hand not occupied by his beer bottle clenching into a fist.

 

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

 

“Anyway,” Laurel began, “you’re both coming to the parties tomorrow, right?”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Felicity replied. The girls were going to a nightclub for Laurel’s bachelorette party, while the guys were going to hang out by the poolside bar for Tommy’s bachelor party.

 

“As if they have a choice,” Sara said, snarky as ever.

 

Laurel threw a murderous glare in Sara’s direction.

 

Wanting to escape before it turned into a full-fledged spat, Felicity spotted her excuse on the far side of the terrace. “Oh look! There’s Aunt Rita. I haven’t seen her in ages. Talk to you guys later?”

 

“Sure,” Laurel said, pasting on a smile.

 

Just as they turned to leave, Tommy called out from behind them. “Samuel Wasserman! That was his name.”

 

Felicity could feel Oliver still beside her. After a second’s hesitation, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Never heard of him.”

 

Oliver walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Felicity scrambling to catch up with him in her heels.

 

“Samuel Wasserman?” Felicity probed.

 

Oliver scrubbed his hand over his face, grimacing. “It’s a long story.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you know all of my dirty little secrets. I mean, they’re not _dirty_ exactly…”

 

“Later,” Oliver said, just as they reached Aunt Rita.

 

Felicity quickly wiped the frown off her face.

 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite niece!” Rita (who was truly just her mother’s closest friend and not even a blood relation) had been in her life as long as she could remember. After Felicity’s dad left, Rita helped Catherine out in every way possible, including watch Felicity while Catherine picked up extra shifts at work. While Felicity loved and appreciated Rita, she also had firsthand experience with her tendency to nose into things that weren’t her business. Gossip might as well be her middle name. Her brash personality and tendency to speak at a high volume certainly didn’t help matters. Felicity thought she had mastered the best way of neutralizing her, but it had been so long, she was probably out of practice.

 

Felicity leaned in to hug the petite brunette. “You do realize we aren’t related, right?”

 

“As if that’s stopped me before!”

 

“True,” Felicity conceded.

 

Rita scanned the room. “Laurel certainly has good taste. Expensive, but good.”

 

A tuxedoed cater-waiter passed them by. “You can say that again.” As much as Felicity envisioned the stereotypical dream wedding when she was little, seeing it executed in person made _her_ exhausted and she had no hand in it. Even as a single woman, she found herself suddenly sympathizing with couples that eloped or went to city hall.

 

“Not so extravagant for your wedding then?” Rita asked, pointing at Felicity and Oliver.

 

“Oh, we’re not engaged,” Oliver said.

 

“Not _yet_ ,” Rita said with a cocked eyebrow and smug grin.

 

“How is it that you’re already meddling and you haven’t even officially met him yet?” Felicity protested.

 

“I just have a good feeling about this one,” Rita said as she pinched Oliver’s cheek. “Unlike that last one of yours.”

 

“Seriously?! Did _everyone_ hate him?”

 

For once, Rita held her tongue.

 

“I’m Oliver, by the way.”

 

“Oliver….” Rita murmured with a pondering look on her overly expressive face. “What’s your last name?”

 

“Queen.”

 

“Felicity Queen sounds a hell of a lot better than Felicity Bowen, don’t you think?”

 

“Ugh, Aunt Rita!” Felicity sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re trying to scare him away.”

 

“I don’t think I could, could I, Oliver?”

 

Oliver opened his mouth to respond, but Felicity interjected. “Do _NOT_ feel obligated to answer that, Oliver.”

 

“Let the man speak his mind, Felicity.” Rita looked pointedly at Oliver.

 

“I wouldn’t expect Felicity to take my name. Hyphenate if she wanted to, perhaps.” Once again, Oliver made Felicity’s jaw drop, albeit for an entirely different reason than before. He was certainly full of surprises.

 

“How considerate of you,” Rita mused. She cupped her hand around her mouth. “He’s a keeper,” she said in a stage-whisper. “Uh oh.” Rita frowned. “He-who-must-not-be-named is looking over here. MIght as well rip the bandaid off,” she said, patting Felicity on the shoulder. “If he tries anything, Oliver, kick his ass.”

 

“Will do, ma’am.” Oliver smiled broadly.

 

Felicity turned to see Carter, nursing a whiskey, handsome as ever in his tailored suit. His penchant for watching Mad Men had bled into his wardrobe choices as well. She cursed the day she shared her Netflix password with him.

 

“Follow my lead on this, okay?” Felicity said, linking her arm through Oliver’s as they approached Carter’s table.

 

“Anything you say, boss.” Oliver’s eyes twinkled despite Felicity’s glare.

 

“Carter, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

He at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed before he responded. “Tommy and I were brothers. He needed another groomsman to balance out the bridesmaids, and I figured a weekend getaway wouldn’t be so bad.”

 

Felicity was once again reminded of Carter’s irritating tendency of bringing up his brothers or his “bros.” While she knew it was common practice to talk about fraternity brothers with that colloquialism, he used it way more than the average person. The first time he mentioned a brother on one of their dates, he didn’t preface it with “frat” or “Chi Psi.” So when she met his family for the first time and she met his very _female_ sibling, she needed a bit of clarification. Needless to say, it was not the least bit surprising that Carter would volunteer his services for one of his “bros.”

 

“Where’s your date?” Felicity asked with feigned nonchalance.

 

“It’s just me,” Carter said, holding up his whiskey to mockingly toast himself.

 

“Oh.” That was certainly not the answer she was expecting to hear. In all honesty, she had been preparing herself for a leggy model-type draped all over him, which was why she was so ready to show off Oliver in retaliation. Any minuscule amount of sympathy for Carter was quickly erased once she remembered how devastated she was when he left. Screw it, she was going all in. “Well, this is my boyfriend, Oliver.” She got on her tiptoes to press a kiss near the corner of Oliver’s mouth. Before her heels touched the ground, Oliver pulled her close, brushing his lips across hers.

 

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Carter’s voice finally cut through the fog that had settled in Felicity’s head. “I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

 

“Yeah,” Felicity said, still distracted. She had figured that they would have to kiss sometime that weekend, but she wasn’t expecting _that_. That shiver down her spine, that toe-curling sensation. All it did was spell trouble for her.

 

She was finally able to tear her eyes away from Oliver long enough to look back at Carter, who was uncomfortably scratching at the back of his neck. He had never been a fan of public displays of affection, which Felicity knew. Oliver’s escalation of that moment unknowingly amplified the uneasy feeling Carter was prone to. Serves him right, Felicity thought with a smirk.

 

“I guess I’ll see you around?” Carter asked, shifting his weight back and forth. He was clearly antsy to leave, eyes rapidly scanning the terrace for a distraction.

 

“Can’t miss all of the festivities,” Felicity said with a snort as Carter departed.

 

“And then there were two,” Oliver murmured. He set his beer down on the table, then removed her wine glass from her grip, setting it down as well. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

 

“Where are we going?” she asked in confusion.

 

“We’re going to dance,” he said, leading her to where the jazz band was set up.

 

“But no one else is dancing.”

 

“Then we’ll christen the dance floor.” He placed her hand up by his neck and settled his hands on her waist. She instinctively linked her other arm behind his head. They began to sway as the opening strains of “Wonderful Tonight” filled the room.

 

“You’ll learn quickly I’m not the most graceful on my feet.”

 

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Oliver smiled.

 

“That’s because I haven’t stepped on your toes yet. Just you wait.”

 

Three songs later (and toes _maybe_ slightly bruised), they were still going strong. A few others had joined in, including the couple of honor and Quentin and Catherine. Felicity noticed Carter on the outskirts of the room, nursing another drink as he gazed across the dance floor. He looked….sad. There had been no indication during their conversation that he missed her. And he wasn’t the type to mope around, so it was a strange sight to say the least.

 

When the party wrapped up a few hours later, Felicity was once again alone with Oliver as they headed back toward their room.

 

“What’s on the books for tomorrow?” Oliver asked.

 

“We have the morning and afternoon to ourselves before the bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow night. I was planning on sleeping in before spending the afternoon at the pool, get a little sun before the ceremony. I’m in a cubicle far too long. Might as well be Casper, I’m so pale.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Oliver said as he slid the key card in the lock.

 

“No, my skin is so blindingly white, I’m pretty sure you need sunglasses.”

 

Oliver just shook his head, smiling, as he draped his suit jacket across the back of the cushioned chair beside the bed. “I’m going to go ahead and get ready for bed,” he said, loosening his tie.

 

“Okay,” Felicity replied, already toeing off her heels, sinking her aching feet into the plush carpet. Removing her earrings, she flopped down on the bed, collapsing on the pillows.

 

Oliver emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in a simple t-shirt paired with his boxer briefs. Felicity was thankful he decided to leave those on. There were already enough thoughts going through her head before throwing _that_ in the mix.

 

She grabbed her bag of toiletries and her PJs, brushing past him on her way into the bathroom. The very first thing she did was pop out her contacts and slide on her familiar frames. Next to go was the clip in her hair, as she raked her fingers through it, catching on the tangles. Scrubbing her face clean of the makeup, the rest of her nightly routine came to a screeching halt once she realized she couldn’t reach the zipper on the back of her dress. How did she ever get it zipped up in the first place? She continued to fidget, contorting her body every which way to try and reach the zipper pull, but it was just delaying the inevitable.

 

“Oliver?” Felicity called out, defeated. “Can I get a little help?” She opened the bathroom door to find Oliver waiting patiently against the door frame. “Wha---?”

 

“I figured you would need me,” Oliver said, spinning Felicity around and sweeping her hair off her neck. She felt a gentle tug between her shoulders as he pulled down the zipper. It was hard not to dwell on the fact that he was literally undressing her.

 

“I think I can take it from here,” she said just as his hand trailed up her spine. She squirmed away from his touch, rushing back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She replaced her dress with her softest t-shirt from college and some boxer shorts. When she had been packing, she had no qualms about packing her comfiest clothing. After all, this whole weekend was just for show, right?

 

Still, as she padded back into the bedroom, tugging at the hem of her shirt, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. She needn’t have bothered, however, as Oliver wasn’t paying attention to her. Instead, he was engrossed in his laptop, fingers moving dexterously across the keys. She was a little taken aback, considering wrapped up in electronics was _her_ default setting.

 

Pulling back the covers, she made sure her pillow barrier was still in position. Her worst nightmare would be waking up on his side of the bed, or worse, clinging to him, while she drooled or something equally embarrassing.

 

“Sorry,” Oliver said, closing his laptop and setting it on the bedside table as she climbed into bed beside him. “Just trying to get caught up on email.”

 

“Is that another part of the service? Cyber seduction?” Felicity instantly regretted that statement, wincing. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. It’s none of my business.”

 

Oliver reached over and squeezed her knee. “Don’t worry about it. Considering the circumstances, I think you’re handling it remarkably well.”

 

Felicity scoffed. “I think the foot extending from my mouth would beg to differ.” She pulled the covers tight as she scrunched down, trying to get comfortable, an impossible task.

 

She remained awake long after Oliver had turned out the light, well after he had fallen asleep. One question kept circulating in her thoughts. What had she gotten herself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Light streamed into the room the following morning, forcing Felicity to open her eyes. She lazily stretched her arms above her head, then rolled to her side. Even without her glasses, she could tell there was a decidedly non-human shape on Oliver’s pillow. Fumbling for her glasses on the nightstand, she slid them on to find a folded note. She opened it, scanning over Oliver’s blocky script.

 

_F-_

_Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll be at the pool. Find me when you’re ready._

_-O_

 

Felicity threw her coverup on over her bikini, slipped on her sandals, and tossed her book into her bag. Swiping a banana from a fruit plate in the lobby, she made her way outside to the pool. Scanning the deck, Oliver was nowhere to be found. She pulled out her phone, ready to tap out a text to Oliver, when she was assaulted by a splash of water at her back.

 

She squealed, spinning around to find that her attacker was just the person she was looking for. Oliver smiled up at her from the pool, arms casually leaning on the wall on either side of him.

 

“Hi,” he said.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lucky you didn’t destroy my phone. Not even that smile could save you then.”

 

“My apologies,” Oliver said, lifting himself up and out of the pool, falling into step beside her.

 

“Don’t you DARE drip on me,” Felicity said, eyeing the water falling from his trunks.

 

“Why come to the pool if you weren’t planning on getting wet?” Oliver asked with a mischievous grin.

 

“Is that a threat, _Wasserman_? Because two can play that game.” She held up her phone, fingers at the ready.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Oliver said, eyeing her suspiciously.

 

“Just a few clicks and I’ll know everything there is to know about Samuel Wasserman. Unless you’d rather confess now and get it over with?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

 

“You do realize I found you by your IP address and not the phone book, right?”

 

Oliver grimaced as he sat down on his chair. “Since you’re going to find out anyway, I might as well tell you now so you hear my side of the story.”

 

Felicity set her things down beside Oliver’s, before taking a seat herself. “So,” she prompted. “Start from the beginning.”

 

“Tommy was right, I was at Princeton. Briefly. Very briefly. I was there as a legacy. My dad was a Chi Psi and thought the only acceptable path for me was pledging to the same fraternity, that doing so might finally get me to grow up. We….never saw eye to eye. I couldn’t have cared less about anything growing up….everything was handed to me and I took it all for granted. I was a jackass. I had already been getting into trouble---getting into fights, failing classes, getting suspended. Sending me off to college was a last resort of sorts--my last chance to prove to my dad that I could make something of myself, instead of being the trust fund burnout I was destined to become.”

 

“Let me guess...you didn’t care?”

 

“No, not in the slightest. They already had to donate enough money for a new wing of the business school in order to get me accepted into Princeton to begin with. My grades were barely worthy of a community college, let alone an Ivy League university. But, of course, money speaks louder than words, so I was in.

 

Things were going great for a while. I had already established which bars turned the other way at serving to minors, which classes were the easiest to coast through, which dorms had the hottest girls….Then came pledge week. I was basically a shoo-in because of my dad, but I still had to go through initiation.” Oliver scratched the back of his neck, hesitating for a moment. “They paired the pledges up and assigned us each a rival frat to prank. They gave us $100 bucks to do our worst and then we would be graded on the prank, with the best pranks moving on and the worst getting cut. I was paired with Shane Taylor, another legacy.”

 

“Wait, that name sounds familiar,” Felicity interjected. “I feel like Carter mentioned him before.”

 

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Oliver replied. “It was the talk of campus for a while, so I’m sure the younger classes heard about it.” Felicity motioned for him to continue as she slipped off her coverup. “It was my idea to buy fireworks. We were going to set them off from the marble fountain in front of the Sigma Nu house during midterms.”

 

“Oh no, I think I _have_ heard this story,” Felicity frowned, trying to recall what Carter had said during one of his many college tales. “Shrapnel Shane?”

 

Oliver winced. “One of the firecrackers malfunctioned and instead of shooting straight up, it shot straight out--right into his stomach. Put him in the ICU. Put me in the dean’s office, where I was swiftly expelled. The administration didn’t care that it was an accident---and neither did my parents. I was cut off---financially, emotionally, physically.”

 

“That’s terrible.”

 

“I mean, I will willingly admit that I was a shitty person back then, but I never would have done anything like that on purpose.”

 

Felicity placed her hand on his arm. “You can’t blame yourself for that. Accidents happen.”

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Wasserman didn’t see it that way.”

 

“Wait, so how did you become ‘Oliver Queen’ anyway?”

 

“I was pissed at my parents for cutting me off. I decided I wanted to be rid of them once and for all, so I legally changed my name. Of course, once I was cut off, I was struggling to make ends meet. I had obviously never held a job before, but I needed something to stay afloat. There were a lot of well-to-do people near campus, the country club type, so I tried to land something with that crowd initially---caddying, bartending, gardening, whatever. But, it turns out those people are really stingy when it comes to paying the help.”

 

Felicity had pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of her bag, squeezing a dab into her hand. She began to rub it into her neck and shoulders, which caused Oliver to pause. She motioned for him to continue.

 

“I may or may not have been drowning my sorrows in the country club parking lot after a bartending shift one night. It was late, we were closed, but I saw one of the regulars, Mrs. McCutcheon, pulling into the lot in her Mercedes. She had been in earlier that night for dinner, so I figured she left something behind. As I walked towards her car, I saw Danny, one of the busboys, getting out of her car after she pulled him in for a kiss. I ducked behind another car so they wouldn’t see me, but I was close enough to see Danny pocketing a big wad of cash.”

 

“So Danny was your way in?” Felicity concluded, looking over her shoulder at Oliver.

 

He closed his eyes before nodding. “Turns out there were quite a few housewives who were feeling a little…..underappreciated. One led to another and soon enough, all of my free time outside of my shifts at the club was booked up. It was exhilarating, really. But after a while, it just got to be too much. I started calling off shifts to meet clients, and it wasn’t long before I lost the job. But with the money I was making, I didn’t really care. But enough about me," Oliver said, turning to face Felicity. "What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?"

 

Felicity snorted. "No way. I was too busy trying to live up to the golden standard Laurel set. I idolized her. I mean, she had her life all figured out--law school, Tommy. I wanted to be like her. I was jealous--hell, I'm still jealous of what she has."

 

"What do you mean? You're just as successful as her."

 

"I may have my professional life figured out, but I sure as hell don't have my personal life together. Why else do you think I brought you along? I wanted everyone to think I could have it all too. I was close to having the real deal once, but clearly that wasn't in the cards for me."

 

"Come on, did you really want to spend the rest of your life with Carter?"

 

"I thought I did, but he clearly didn't feel the same."

 

"Well, _clearly_ he's an idiot."

 

"Are compliments included or are those an additional fee?" Felicity joked.

 

Oliver rolled his eyes. "That one's on the house," he said, standing up. “Actually, I take that back. There is a charge.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“Really.” Oliver put his arm under her knees and behind her back, lifting her up.

 

“NO! Put me down!” Felicity squirmed in his arms, trying to get free, but his grip was too tight.

 

“You got what you wanted already. Now it’s my turn.”

 

“You’re gonna regret this!” Felicity said, trying to sound menacing. It was hard to take a threat seriously from a girl in a bikini, however.

 

When Oliver tossed her into the open water, Felicity’s shriek could be heard well beyond the pool deck, drawing the attention of their fellow resort guests.

 

She broke through the water’s surface, sputtering water that she had swallowed. Oliver stood at the pool’s edge, towering above her. Revenge on her mind, Felicity snaked her arm around Oliver’s ankle before he could react. Tugging sharply, he toppled into the pool, splashing wildly.

 

“Not so nice, is it?” Felicity said once Oliver was back above water.   


His response was simply to splash water in her direction, but with a grin on his face.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m just glad to see you’re loosening up. No need for you to be so tense,” he said as he waded toward her.

 

“Oliver…” Felicity warned.

 

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

 

“Whatever it is you’re going to do, just stop. You won already.”

 

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.”

 

“Mmmhmm, sure.” She gave him a knowing look.

 

“Let me guess, you thought I would do _this_ ,” Oliver said as he pushed Felicity’s shoulders underwater, dunking her.

 

The two continued splashing around for the rest of the afternoon, only getting out of the pool when they needed to get ready for the evening’s events. (Felicity realized later she had failed to make any progress on her book once again.)

 

Felicity wrapped her towel around her, tucking it in tight while Oliver grabbed their things.

 

“So much for that tan,” she said, sliding on her sandals.

 

“I have no doubt you’ll look amazing in your dress with or without a tan,” Oliver said, drying his hair with a towel.

 

Whether she was flustered from his words or just plain clumsy, she found herself stumbling on the pool deck.

 

“Whoa there,” Oliver said as he steadied her with his firm grip. “I don’t think black and blue is the look you’re going for either.”

 

“Right,” she said with a shaky laugh.

 

As they made their way back to the room, she allowed Oliver to gain a sizable lead on her. She purposefully kept her distance, giving her space to breathe and collect her thoughts.

 

They got ready in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. While Oliver was rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, Felicity was fluffing her curls hanging loose down her back. Giving herself one last look in the mirror, she made her way back into the bedroom, decked out in her gold minidress.

 

“Ready?” Felicity asked as she turned to face Oliver. She caught him eyeing the skin she had on display, long legs peeking out from the shorter hem.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and extended his arm to her. She linked her arm through his as they set off for the lobby.

 

They caught up with Sara in the elevator. Normally not one to dress up, Sara surprised Felicity with her bandage dress.

 

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Felicity wondered aloud as she and Oliver stepped onto the elevator.

 

“I could say the same thing to you, golden girl,” Sara said, gesturing to Felicity’s attire. “I’m surprised you let her leave the room like that,” she said to Oliver.

 

“It was...a struggle,” Oliver said finally.

 

“I bet,” Sara said, wiggling her eyebrows with a smirk on her face.

 

“Sara!” Felicity groaned as she smacked Sara in the arm half-heartedly.

 

“What?” Sara asked, playing innocent.

 

“I swear we need a leash for you sometimes.”

 

“Can’t say that would be my first time on a leash,” Sara said with a devious grin.

 

While Felicity rolled her eyes towards the elevator ceiling, Oliver broke into a coughing fit, brought on by choking back a laugh.

 

The elevator couldn’t reach the ground floor soon enough. Sara strode out into the lobby, full of confidence, while Oliver and Felicity hung back.

 

“Sorry about her,” Felicity said, looking at her feet. “She….” Felicity trailed off, shaking her head.

 

“She’s your sister,” Oliver finished, placing his hands on her waist. “You don’t have to explain.”

 

Felicity raised up to find Oliver looking at her with his piercing blue gaze. Before she could read any more into what was going on in his head, Laurel called out to them from across the lobby.

 

“There will be time for that later, you two. A party bus awaits!” Laurel was surrounded by a group of girls, including Sara. Her silky floral romper was already punctuated by a sash reading “Bride-to-Be.” Unless Felicity was mistaken, it appeared Laurel may have started the celebrating a little early.

 

“Go,” Oliver whispered, ushering Felicity off.

 

“Aww, don’t leave him hanging like that,” Joanna, one of Laurel’s coworkers, said. “Give him a goodbye kiss!”

 

“Yeah, kiss him,” Sara said. She then led the (clearly already tipsy) girls in a chant. “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”

 

“I guess we have to give the people what they want,” Felicity shrugged, fingering the button on Oliver’s collar.

 

“I’ve never been one to deny people their wishes,” Oliver replied with a small smile.

 

“Here goes nothing,” Felicity said as she leaned in.

 

She could feel one of Oliver’s hands move to cup her cheek as she closed her eyes, his roughened skin a sharp contrast to her soft. There was no hesitation, nothing tentative about this kiss. In fact, it was just the opposite, Oliver’s lips urgently seeking out hers. Felicity couldn’t help but return the kiss, opening her mouth to deepen it further, arms encircling his neck.

 

“Okay, you two, knock it off,” Sara called out. “You can’t be upstaging the bride and groom this weekend.”

 

Felicity began to untangle herself from Oliver and felt herself flush. She had gotten herself carried away _way_ too easily. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, afraid to see what his reaction (or lack thereof) would be. Smoothing out her dress, she made her way over to the girls, hoping to find a smidgen of mental fortitude, or at least enough to prevent her from looking back at Oliver.

 

She made it almost all the way to the party bus before she caved and looked over her shoulder. Oliver remained in the same spot, and truth be told, he looked a little dazed. Her movement, however, caught his eye and he gave her a little wave and a smile.

 

She wasn’t sure if the seat belt in the bus would still be able to restrain her, as she was fairly certain she was going to float away. Her skin still seemed to be vibrating from the electricity their kiss generated.

 

“So, are you accepting applications yet for bridesmaids to your own wedding?” Sara asked as she flopped down next to Felicity.

 

“Sara, don’t be ridiculous,” Felicity muttered as she fussed over a loose sequin dangling from her hem.

 

“How am I being ridiculous? The way he looks at you, it’s obvious he’s crazy about you.”

 

“It’s way too soon for that.”

 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase, ‘when you know, you know?’ Well I know that you two have something special.”

 

“Special is definitely one way to describe it,” Felicity said under her breath.

 

“I just hope I find someone that adores me the way Oliver adores you.”

 

That statement caused Felicity to jerk her head. “ _Excuse me?!_ Sara Lance, since when are you some mopey, pessimistic person? I have never heard you sound this way. What gives?”

 

“I don’t know.” Sara shrugged. “Being at this wedding made me take a step back and reassess things. I never thought I would say this, but I think I’m jealous of Laurel.”

 

Felicity sputtered out a laugh. “Aren’t we all, though?” She scanned the bus, spotting Laurel deep in conversation with Joanna and another friend.

 

“I’m not _jealous_ jealous of Laurel. I just envy that she found someone. You too! I’m just so over being alone.”

 

Felicity furrowed her brow. “Umm, when are you ever alone?! You’re always with someone.”

 

“As much as I love hooking up, it gets pretty tiresome. It’s never anything permanent. Not like Laurel and Tommy or you and Oliver.”

 

Felicity scoffed. If only Sara knew how temporary it truly was.

 

The bus slowed to a stop after a while, arriving at their destination---the local nightclub. The girls piled out in droves, heels clicking on the pavement as they made their way up to the bouncer. After quickly flashing their IDs, the bouncer let them pass into an already booming club. The dance floor was already crammed with tightly packed bodies, grinding to one of the hottest remixes. Sara grabbed Felicity’s wrist and made a beeline straight for the bar.

 

“We’re going to have to start now to catch up with the rest of them,” Sara explained.

 

“If you insist,” Felicity said as she was dragged along.

 

Sara easily wedged her way through the crowd surrounding the bar, sidling up to the counter, deadset on getting the bartender’s attention. Although his back was currently to them, Felicity could already tell that he was probably the largest man she’d ever seen. He wasn’t the world’s fattest man or anything, far from it, in fact. He had the broadest shoulders and largest biceps she’d seen outside of a superhero in a comic book. Dish towel on his shoulder, he turned around, depositing two drinks on the counter for the couple beside them.

 

“Ow!” Felicity yelped. Sara had just pinched her in the wrist. “What was that for?” Felicity asked, rubbing the irritated skin.

 

Sara paid her no attention, however, fully absorbed in the bartender. She bit down on her lower lip, looking up at him through her lashes---the patented Sara Lance flirting technique. Felicity could see her stepsister eyeing the man, clothed in a fitted black t-shirt, perfectly suited for showing off his impressive muscles. So impressive that Felicity wondered why he was making drinks instead of guarding the door. His closely cropped dark hair meshed with with his dark skin, and, by the looks of it, he had a great smile.

 

The smile was currently on display as he looked down at the two. (Of course he was tall, as well.)

 

“What can I get for you ladies?” His deep voice suited him as well, Felicity noted.

 

“I’ll take a heartbreaker’s special,” Sara said with her ever-present smirk.

 

“A Long Island for me, thanks.”

 

While the bartender started getting their drinks together, Felicity grabbed Sara’s shoulder, forcing Sara to face her. “What happened to no more hooking up?”

 

“I never said that exactly…” Sara said, clearly backpedaling.

 

“Look, Sara, I’m not judging you. I’m simply reminding you of your own words from _less than an hour ago_.”

 

“This is going to be different, I swear.”

 

“Mmhmm, sure.” Felicity rolled her eyes.

 

“One Long Island and one heartbreaker’s special,” he said, setting down their drinks.

 

“Thanks…..?” Sara trailed off.

 

“John, but everyone calls me Diggle.”

 

“Sara.”

 

Felicity planned on introducing herself as well, but based on her estimation, the two of them wouldn’t even notice she opened her mouth.

 

“It’s great to meet you, Sara.” A warm smile crossed John’s face as he shifted closer to the flirtatious blonde.

 

Felicity took that as her cue to leave. She picked up her cocktail and headed towards the rest of the party. Not seeing Laurel out on the dance floor, she finally spotted the girls piled into a corner booth.

 

“F’licity!” Laurel called out much too loudly. “Where have you been? We got bottle service!” She pulled the bottle of what appeared to be vodka out of the bucket in which it was chilling, holding it up as proof.

 

“Apparently I was off helping Sara find a new plaything.”

 

Laurel scanned the room. “Don’t tell me she’s found another one of Tommy’s exes to bring to the ceremony.”

 

“No, I would like to think John the bartender would not be one of the notches on Tommy’s bedpost. Unless there’s something Tommy’s not telling us, of course…”

 

Laurel just rolled her eyes. “Come on, grab a drink!”

 

“I already have,” Felicity said, raising her glass.

 

“Grab another!”

 

Before denying her outright, Felicity reconsidered. What did she have to lose by letting loose for one night? This was a vacation for her too, after all. She downed the rest of her Long Island, getting a little bit of a brain freeze, while simultaneously feeling her face flush due to the alcohol.

 

“Fill me up,” she said, slamming her empty glass down on the table. Laurel quickly obliged, mixing the vodka with a splash of cranberry juice.

 

Several drinks later, Felicity was feeling weightless, light as air. Sometime during the last round of drinks, she had made her way onto the dance floor, spinning and twirling to her heart’s content. She was perfectly happy dancing on her own, but soon found herself stepping on the toes of a man with light brown hair. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t the man whose toes she wanted to be stepping on. If she was going to have a dance partner, there was only one person she had in mind.

 

Excusing herself, she went off in search of Sara, who she hadn’t seen in quite a while. After failing to spot her on the main floor, she headed down the hallway towards the bathrooms. The hallway was a veritable obstacle course, littered with couples embracing. She wove her way through couple after couple until she spotted Sara at the end of the hall, partially obscured from view because of the absence of light, but Felicity could spot her hair from a mile away. Felicity watched as a large hand delved into Sara’s hair, pulling her in for a kiss. It came as no surprise that Sara and Diggle found their way back to one another. Wasn’t there some unwritten rule about bartenders hooking up with customers, though?

 

Regardless, Felicity knew better than to interrupt them. She just wanted to talk to someone, to figure out what it was holding her back. She didn’t mean to stand there and gawk, but the longer she did, the more she could feel her resolve strengthening. Why couldn’t she do something like that, just let loose for a night of fun, a night of passion? Normally, her mind wouldn’t even wander there, but the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions. Before she could think better of it, she made her way outside and hailed a cab.

 

That confidence carried her all the way back to her room, where she slid the key card into the door ever so carefully. Inside the room, the lights were out, the TV was off, and everything was quiet. Just her luck, Oliver was probably already asleep. That was when she felt the breeze. The patio door leading out to the balcony was open.

 

Oliver stood out on the balcony, facing the water, arms resting on the railing on either side of him. Just the sight of him standing there was enough to take her breath away. She faltered enough to draw his attention.

 

“Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

 

“Hey,” she returned in kind. Oliver must have sensed something was different, because he allowed the silence to linger, waiting for something, _anything_ to happen.

 

This was it. This was the moment. It was now or never. The breaking point, the point of no return, whatever you wanted to call it. Felicity summoned up all of her strength and courage (mainly of the liquid variety) and made her move.

 

She crossed the space between them in a few short steps. Tugging on his shirt collar, she pulled his lips down to hers. This was the true test---what would it be like between them when no one was watching, when there was no show to put on? Felicity wasn’t disappointed. Oliver responded eagerly, framing her face with his hands, capturing her lips with his own.

 

Felicity pulled away, breathless, but started making quick work of the buttons on Oliver’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. She placed a kiss on his collarbone, working her way up his neck. Oliver pulled her mouth back to his greedily as he steered her into the hotel room.

 

Felicity felt the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed, but before she let Oliver lay her down, she stopped him.

 

“Wait a second,” she said, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to detach herself.

 

“What is it?” Oliver asked, stroking her cheek.

 

“It’s these….” Felicity turned to face the bed. “Damn pillows,” she finished, as she sent her carefully constructed pillow wall crashing to the floor. “Much better,” she said with a smile, turning back to Oliver.

 

He took that as his cue, reaching around to unzip her dress. She obliged, letting it slip to the floor. He lifted her easily and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. When he laid her on the bed, blonde curls fanned out on the pillows, it became obvious how his frame dwarfed hers, covering it entirely.

 

He kissed his way down her body, paying special attention to the skin between her navel and the top of her underwear. Her skin already felt like it was on fire, Oliver’s touch like flames licking at her sides. Her hands roamed over his body, laying claim to what she thought would never be hers.

 

She reached between them, grasping for Oliver’s waistband and not finding it.

 

“You’re wearing entirely too much clothing,” Felicity huffed in protest.

 

“I could say the same about you,” Oliver replied, plucking at her bra straps with his fingertips.

 

“Then do something about it.”

 

Oliver wasted no time divesting her of her undergarments, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Felicity and her newly exposed flesh.

 

There was more than enough space between them now for Felicity to run her fingers down his abdomen until she reached the button of his pants, nimbly unbuttoning them and sliding them down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them.

 

She was certainly ready to take the next step and by the looks of it, he was too. He took the lead, erasing the distance between them once again, this time devoting his attention to her curves. His palms gripped her hips while his mouth was on her chest and neck, branding the sensitive skin. She could feel her back arch as he nipped at her, finding the precarious balance between pleasure and pain.

 

“Oliver?” she panted.

 

He lifted his head, eyebrows raised in question.

 

“I…..need you.” There was no weakness or desperation in her tone, only desire.

 

She could see Oliver’s blue eyes darken in response as he leaned in, capturing her lips hungrily once more. He pulled away briefly to fish through his discarded pants, finding the necessary foil packet in the pocket. Ripping it open with his teeth, there was no uncertainty in his movements.

 

When he entered her a moment later, Felicity was quickly assured of how certain he was. He began to move slowly, trying to find the right rhythm. Lacing her fingers behind his head, she brought him in for another kiss. Oliver continued to increase his pace, stoking the fire building inside of her. With one final drive, he pushed her over the edge, following right behind her.

 

Oliver collapsed beside her, but continued to run his fingers up and down her sides. The last thing Felicity could remember before she fell asleep was Oliver tracing patterns across her bare back.


	4. Chapter 4

She awoke to the sound of dishes clattering, a strange sound to be hearing so early in the morning. It was especially painful considering the pounding headache she had. God, she had way too much to drink last night.

 

Shifting in the bed, she felt the soft sheets twist around her noticeably bare skin. It all came back to her in an instant----the nightclub, the alcohol, Sara and the hot bartender, and, of course, Oliver.

 

Oliver. It didn’t seem quite real. A fantasy that got out of hand, maybe. But her bare skin and sore muscles indicated otherwise.

 

It was a new day, as evidenced by the cart Oliver was pushing around the corner, teeming with various breakfast offerings from room service.

 

“Hey. You’re up,” Oliver said with a smile. He halted the cart at the foot of the bed, then made his way over to Felicity’s side. “Good morning,” he said, leaning in.

 

She backed away from him, flushing. “Oliver, about last night….nothing happened, right?”

 

If Felicity didn’t know any better, she would have said Oliver looked dejected, even hurt by her words.

 

Oliver stood up stiffly, making his way back to the cart. “No. Nothing happened.”

 

Of course she _knew_ what had happened last night. They had crossed that line into undefined territory. And she had no idea where they now stood. Since she had a track record of building up hope that people would stay, only to get it snatched away, she took the first step to protect herself this time. She wouldn’t allow herself to get attached. She couldn’t.

 

Felicity didn’t have the patience or the energy to examine her feelings in detail. What she needed was a hot cup of coffee and a shower. They were due to be at the golf course before long, spending the day on the links with the wedding party before the rehearsal dinner that evening.

 

Seeing as how Oliver was already dressed, she went ahead and made her way to the bathroom, sheet wrapped around her body, but not before swiping her phone from the nightstand. If she remembered correctly, there was a stipulation in their agreement regarding surcharges for sexual activities. Scrolling through her phone, she quickly found the relevant segment of text. Sure enough, there was additional money required for what she and Oliver had done last night. What was another couple hundred dollars more at this point, right? She went ahead and transferred the necessary funds into his PayPal account before hopping in the shower.

 

She had barely gotten her hair wet when Oliver stormed in, ripping the shower curtain back. Felicity reflexively covered her chest and her privates with her hands, which was ridiculous considering what they had done last night.

 

“What the hell is this?” Oliver asked, holding up his phone, screen displaying the PayPal confirmation.

 

“It’s for last night,” Felicity mumbled, too embarrassed at what she had done to admit it aloud.

 

“If I were going to charge you, I would have told you about it beforehand. And besides, I thought we agreed that nothing happened,” Oliver said, visibly pressing the “reject transfer” button on the confirmation screen before storming back out of the bathroom.

 

Felicity tentatively pulled the shower curtain closed and resumed her shower. She was having trouble focusing on the task at hand, however, instead distracted by Oliver’s anger. When she found herself conditioning her hair for a second time, she made herself snap out of it. She finished getting ready, putting on her bermuda shorts and tank top, then sliding into her tennis shoes.

 

Already cursing her stepsister for subjecting her to a day out on the golf course, she made her way back to the bedroom, unsure what she would find.

 

Oliver sat on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes, which appeared to have little spikes on the bottom.

 

“You actually have golf shoes?!”

 

“I like to spend some of my free time at the driving range,” Oliver said plainly, refusing to make eye contact with Felicity. He slid on a hat, curving the brim with his hand.

 

Felicity grabbed her own hat (MIT alumni) and settled it on her head, pulling her trusty ponytail through the back. “Shall we?” Felicity asked, sliding her phone and room key into her pockets. When Oliver didn’t immediately respond, she straightened her glasses nervously. Eventually, he gestured for her to go ahead, following close behind.

 

The tension between the pair continued even after they arrived at the course. Sure, Oliver was pleasant and friendly around the other guests, but with her? It was like talking to a brick wall.

 

Thankfully, Sara snatched her away, pulling her aside at the drink cart.

 

“Where did you disappear to last night, Four Eyes?”

 

“I could ask you the same question, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”

 

To Felicity’s surprise, Sara actually flushed. As brazen as she normally was, she never showed the slightest discomfort or embarrassment.

 

Sara shook her head slightly. “I know, I know. But this time was different. John and I have this _connection_ …”

 

“Say no more,” Felicity said, throwing up her hands. “Spare me the sordid details.”

 

“Okay, then,” Sara said with a smirk, quickly coming back to the matter at hand. “You still never answered my question.”

 

“I just went back to the room,” Felicity shrugged noncommittally. “I was tired.”

 

“Uh huh, sure,” Sara said, pinning Felicity with an assessing stare. “So what’s with the hickeys?”

 

Felicity followed her gaze downward to find the offending red marks indeed present on her skin, peeking out from under the neckline of her tank top. “Uhh….” Felicity stammered, at a loss for words.

 

“Say no more,” Sara parroted back to Felicity. “Unless you want to. I wouldn’t mind hearing the details of you and Mr. Stud Muffin. Not one bit,” she whispered conspiratorially.

 

Once again reminded of what she and Oliver had done the night before, Felicity could almost feel a gravitational pull drawing her eyes to Oliver. He appeared to be in an easygoing conversation with one of the uncles, who was patting him on the back. How could he be so engaged with everyone else and seem so detached with her?

 

“Whoa,” Sara cut in, interrupting her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked, feigning ignorance while forcing herself to perk up.

 

“You look miserable. Is everything okay between the two of you?”

 

“I don’t know,” Felicity admitted. “We don’t seem to be on the same page right now.”

 

Sara squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure you crazy kids will work it out.”

 

“Fore!” A voice called out as an errant golf ball came careening towards the drink cart, knocking over a bottled water in its wake. Both girls jumped back, startled.

 

“Sorry girls,” Tommy said as he came rushing over. “Clearly I’m out of practice with this thing,” he said, gesturing to his driver.

 

“You don’t say,” Sara said sarcastically. “Hopefully Laurel isn’t just marrying you for your athletic ability. If so, she’s screwed.”

 

“Hey!” Tommy protested, sticking out his bottom lip rather adorably.

 

“Where is Laurel anyway?” Felicity asked, peering behind Tommy towards the tee box.

 

“She left something behind in the clubhouse, I think,” Tommy replied. “She should be back soon,” he said, twirling the club with his fingers.

 

“Okay, big guy. I’m going to go before you hurt yourself or those around you,” Felicity said, backing up.

 

Felicity returned to find Oliver working on his short game on the practice putting green.

 

“Working on becoming the next Tiger Woods?” She called out.

 

When Oliver’s head snapped up with a jolt, she took the time to rethink what she said. Tiger was, of course, the first and only golfer she could think of. Then she remembered why she knew his name so well---all the women he had slept with splashed all over the news. Definitely not the best person to be comparing him to.

 

“Sorry,” Felicity apologized. “I meant, with the golf and everything…” She trailed off as Oliver straightened, placing his putter back in the bag.

 

Instead of laughing at her flub, he shook his head and made his way to the clubhouse without saying a word. “I didn’t mean it that way, you know that, right?”

 

When Oliver didn’t turn around, she called out, “Where the hell are you going?”

 

Great, Felicity thought. Now everyone was going to talk about how Oliver stormed off, leaving Felicity alone once again. It was going to be the end of the story anyway, so why not hit fast-forward now? No one expected anything different.

 

Maybe if things were different, she would go after Oliver, try to convince him to stay. But their roles hadn’t changed---their entire relationship was predicated on a lie. They weren’t a real couple. Even if her fantasies had become a reality the night before, it didn’t change the facts---Oliver was getting paid to be there. He didn’t actually have feelings for her.

 

Now that she was sufficiently depressed, what better to do than to take out her emotions on a helpless golf ball? She grabbed a driver and the basket of balls and made her way over to the practice tees. After placing a ball on the rubber tee, she moved into a shoulder-width stance, only because that’s what it looked like everyone else on the course was doing. Here goes nothing, Felicity thought as she pulled the club back into her backswing. The good news was that the club made contact with the ball. The bad news was that Felicity’s swing was a _little_ too enthusiastic and she let go of the club in her follow-through. It went soaring through the air, landing just short of the spot where the ball landed.  Considering her lack of expertise, that meant it wasn’t _too_ far from where she started, but still, the damage was done. She just hoped no one witnessed it, using the incident for future blackmail. She sheepishly grabbed the club and hurried back to the tee. Maybe a few practice swings wouldn’t hurt? Setting up again, she planted her feet and tried to square the face of the driver to the empty tee.

 

After a few jerky attempts, she felt a solid grip on her hips. “You need to rotate your hips more,” Oliver whispered, breath tickling her ear. He guided her back into a passable swing, proving he was no amateur on the course.

 

“So you’re talking to me now?” Felicity questioned, looking back over her shoulder.

 

“Sorry. Must have been the jet lag finally catching up with me.”

 

“We’ve been here two days already,” Felicity said with a raised eyebrow. She was not going to fall for his horrible attempt at an excuse.

 

“Let’s just forget about this morning. Maybe enjoy this weekend?”

 

“You’re not mad anymore?” Felicity was skeptical. It sure seemed to be a quick about-face from his previous attitude. But if he was willing to put this in the past, she wasn’t going to stop him.

 

“I wasn’t….mad. It doesn’t matter now,” Oliver said, turning Felicity around and placing his hands on her shoulders. “We’ve got a rehearsal dinner and a wedding to get ready for, don’t we?” One hand moved upward of its own accord, reaching out to cup Felicity’s cheek. “What do you say we blow off the rest of this golfing disaster?” Oliver asked, his smile back in full form.

 

“I wouldn’t call it a disaster…”

 

“Only because you didn’t cause bodily injury with that club of yours.”

 

“So you saw that, huh? Great,” Felicity muttered. Regardless, she and Oliver were back on speaking terms and she wasn’t going to take that for granted.


	5. Chapter 5

“Nap time,” Felicity proclaimed once they made it back to their room, flopping onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Seriously?” Oliver laughed, lying down beside her. “You’ve only been up for a few hours.”

 

“You never pass up an opportunity for a power nap, I’ve learned.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“When you’ve spent as many late nights as I have writing code, you’ll learn to appreciate sleep when you can get it.”

 

“You’re remarkable. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you.”

 

Felicity snorted. “Aren’t you so glad you’ve had the honor and privilege?”

 

Oliver reached over, taking her hand in his. “Seriously. I think I’d miss you even if we never met.”

 

She gave his hand a squeeze in response, rewarding him with the briefest of smiles.

 

They laid together, hands intertwined, until the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun dwindled, signaling the start of the rehearsal dinner.

 

“Here, let me help you with that,” Oliver said, fingertips trailing up Felicity’s spine as he helped her with the zipper on her dress.

 

“Thanks,” Felicity replied, checking her reflection in the mirror while she put in her earrings.

 

“It was nothing.”

 

She turned then, intent on fixing his tie. She adjusted the knot before smoothing it out. “There. Now you’re perfect,” she said, beaming up at him.

 

When neither of them made any effort to move, it was evident that there was still a crackling energy between them that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

 

“Felicity--” Oliver’s thought was quickly interrupted by pounding on the door.

 

“Time to put an end to the makeup sex. You two have been in there long enough!” Sara’s voice, while muffled by the door, was certainly clear enough that there was no mistaking what she said.

 

Felicity cringed apologetically up at Oliver before making her way to the door.

 

“Yes, Sara?” Felicity asked as she opened the door.

 

“Oh good, you’re dressed,” Sara said as she barged into the room. “Nice dress,” she said, taking note of Felicity’s black silk slip dress as she passed by. “Hi, Oliver.”

 

“Sara,” Oliver nodded in greeting.

 

“Was there something you needed?” Felicity asked, still holding the door open. She wanted to know what Oliver was going to say and Sara’s surprise visit was _not_ helping.

 

“Just coming to get you for dinner. And to tell you that I’m bringing John as my plus one tomorrow.”

 

“John?” Oliver asked, confused.

 

“The bartender from last night,” Felicity explained.

 

“He’s not just a bartender! He’s starting his own consulting firm. I think the two of you would get along, Oliver.”

 

“Sounds like an interesting guy. Can’t wait to meet him.”

 

“And Laurel’s okay with the late addition?”

 

Sara gestured with her hand to indicate it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s just swapping out Ryan’s placecard for John’s.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Felicity mused. She was sure Laurel wouldn’t find it so simple, but she wasn’t going to press the issue further.

 

“Come on,” Sara said, grabbing Felicity’s bag and heading back towards the door. “Think of all the wine we’ve already missed!”

 

The rest of the wedding party had just arrived by the time the trio made it down to the private dining room. Felicity greeted her mother and stepfather, as well as Dinah.

 

“How’s my girl?” Catherine asked, putting her arm around Felicity’s shoulders.

 

“Good,” Felicity said, leaning into her mother’s embrace. “I’m really glad I was able to take some time to get away.”

 

“Me too. You needed a break. So what do you think?” Catherine asked, gesturing to the party. “Think this will be you next?”

 

“Why are you so quick to marry off all of our girls?” Quentin asked from behind the pair. “Give a father a little emotional recovery time, will you?”

 

“Dad, stop being so melodramatic. You’ll be fine,” Sara said, rolling her eyes.

 

A sharp chime of a fork on a wine glass got everyone’s attention.

 

“Good evening, everyone,” Tommy called out from the head of the table with Laurel by his side. “We’re both so thankful that all of you were able to join us for this memorable weekend. It really means a lot to both of us. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this woman, and I’m so glad this weekend is finally here.” He brushed a kiss on Laurel’s cheek.

 

“Hear, hear,” one of Tommy’s friends chimed in, which resulted in some laughter around the room.

 

“Like Tommy said, we’re grateful that everyone could make it. Now, if everyone could take their seats, we’ve got a lot of food waiting on us. So dig in!” Laurel said, ever the consummate hostess.

 

Oliver and Felicity made their way to their seats, quickly diving into one of the many platters of food covering the long table. The laughter, conversation, and wine kept flowing as the night advanced. Felicity found herself more than once recounting a memory of Sara sneaking out of their shared bedroom in the middle of the night, to the table’s delight (with the exception of Quentin).

 

The one person who didn’t seem to be having a great time? Carter. While the rest of the table was engrossed in conversation, he sat in silence, pushing food around his plate and gulping down copious amounts of wine.

 

So much wine, in fact, that the table’s supply had dwindled. Felicity volunteered to find the manager to get more of the fantastic red wine, gathering the empty bottles and making her way out into the hallway.

 

She had almost made it all the way to the kitchen door when someone called out her name. Carter appeared behind her, head down, hands in his pockets.

 

“Carter?”

 

He raised his head to meet her eyes, distress evident in his expression. “Felicity, we need to talk.”

 

“About what, Carter? What could we possibly have to say to each other?” Felicity was not in the mood to rehash old drama.

 

“There’s something you need to know.”

 

“Just stop right there, Carter. I don’t know what’s got you acting all strange, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re nostalgic for old times, maybe it hurts for you to see me with someone else, but you lost the right to care a long time ago when you ended things between us.”

 

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“When I ended things between us--”

 

“What?” Felicity cut him off. “You’re realizing now it was a mistake?”

 

“Dammit Felicity, let me speak,” Carter said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I ended things because there was someone else. I fell in love with her.”

 

His words hit her like a slap in the face. That had not been what she was expecting to hear. “Why are you bringing this up now? Why bother telling me at all?”

 

“Because she’s getting married tomorrow.”

 

Distantly, Felicity recognized the sound of shattering glass as the wine bottles now lay broken at her feet.

 

“You and Laurel? You slept with my sister?! How could you?” Millions of thoughts were swirling in her head, but one stood out above the rest--she wasn’t the only wronged party here. “Does Tommy know? Does your friend know that you slept with his fiancée?”

 

“They were on a break. He knows there was someone else, but he doesn’t know it was me.”

 

“And you still agreed to be a groomsman after this?” Felicity asked, incredulous.

 

“It was my last chance to see if she would change her mind about us.”

 

“I--- I can’t even look at you right now.” Felicity rushed past him, forgetting about the wine, forgetting everything except her instinct to get out of there. She ran right into Oliver’s arms, who had just stepped out into the hall.

 

He quickly noticed the state she was in. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

Laurel, seemingly hearing all the commotion, had made her way into the hall. Taking in the display before her, she then turned to Oliver.

 

“I can’t believe you told her.”

 

Processing Laurel’s words, Felicity pushed Oliver’s chest, taking a step back. Oliver’s pained expression said everything.

 

“You knew?”

 

“Felicity---”

 

“I don’t want to hear it.” She rushed down the hall, winding through the hotel’s passageways until she made it outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air, trying to calm herself, but it was no use.

 

She realized belatedly she had nowhere to go. Her bag, holding both her cell phone and her room key, still remained in her seat back in the dining room. She was stranded.

 

She slipped off her shoes, holding them by their straps as she made her way down to the pier.

 

She didn’t think it was possible to feel more pain than when Carter left. She was wrong. Even though she knew she was over Carter, that didn’t mean that this news didn’t hurt. But Laurel? Perfect Laurel who she admired, respected, envied---how could she? It was the ultimate betrayal of everything she knew to be true about her sister. And Oliver, how could he keep that from her? He knew how she felt about her sister. They were supposed to be--well, they weren’t supposed to _be_ anything, but Felicity knew that things were different between her and Oliver.

 

Felicity tiptoed her way down the pier, using the moonlight as her guide to avoid splinters. Dropping her shoes at her feet, she leaned against the railing, staring out at the dark, choppy waves. It was much cooler now, she noted with a shiver.

 

She wasn’t sure how long she was standing there before she heard the planks behind her squeak, indicating someone else was there. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Oliver was standing there.

 

“Go away.”

 

“I will. I just thought you might need this,” Oliver said, moving beside her to hand off her purse.

 

Felicity took her purse, hating how grateful she was to him. As he turned away, she spoke up, curiosity getting the better of her. “How did you happen to find out, anyway?”

 

“When I went back into the clubhouse earlier, I saw Laurel and Carter arguing. He was trying to convince her to call off the wedding. I walked in right in the middle of it.”

 

Felicity thought back to earlier that day, remembering how Oliver’s attitude changed once he came back from the clubhouse. “So _that’s_ why you were so nice to me all of sudden? What, did you feel sorry for me or something?”

 

“Felicity, it’s not like that.”

 

“Were you even going to tell me?” Before Oliver could speak, Felicity added, “You know what? It doesn’t even matter. It’s just another lie to add to the pile for you.” She could feel the tears building, but she pushed on. “You’re a liar. That’s what you are. I was so desperate to make everyone think I was happy. The only one who ended up falling for it was me. I wish I could say it was worth it.”

 

“That’s rich coming from you,” Oliver said, laughing bitterly. “Somehow it’s _my_ fault that your stepsister and your ex-boyfriend were screwing behind your back. Yes, you deserved to know, but you’re just looking for any excuse to keep pushing me away, aren’t you? Leave me before I have the chance to leave you?”

 

“How dare you.”

 

“Are you going to let this fear of abandonment dictate your entire life? I’m sorry, but the woman I met this weekend is better than that. She deserves more than that. Just because your dad left and Carter left doesn’t mean everybody leaves.”

 

“Would you just go?” Felicity pleaded. She didn’t want to hear Oliver’s psychoanalysis, especially when it was more than a little true.

 

“If that’s what you want.”

 

Felicity turned her back on Oliver, effectively ending their conversation. She heard him eventually retreat, but remained by the water for a few more minutes, hoping to pretend for a little while longer that things weren’t as they seemed. If she thought she felt alone before this weekend, it was nothing compared to how alone she felt right now.

 

When the chill in the air finally became unbearable, Felicity regretfully made her way back up the pier. Thankfully, she was able to make it all the way back to her room without running into anyone she knew. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more confrontation tonight, which caused her to approach the hotel room with some trepidation. Would Oliver be waiting inside?

 

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when she found the room empty, all of Oliver’s things gone as well. What she really wanted was to put her pajamas on and mope over a pint of mint chocolate chip. She wondered if room service delivered this late. The employee on the other end of the line must have sensed her distress, since she assured Felicity that it wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Safely in her pajamas and the plush hotel bathrobe, she padded out of the bathroom when she heard a knock on the door.

 

“You’re not room service,” she announced to a clearly distressed Laurel.

 

“Can I come in?” Laurel asked, nervously rotating her engagement ring around her finger.

 

“Do I have a choice?” Felicity shrugged, moving back into the room, allowing Laurel to follow her inside.

 

“Where’s Oliver?” Laurel asked after assessing the room.

 

“He’s gone.”

 

“I-- I don’t understand.”

 

“Oliver didn’t tell me. Carter did.”

 

“Oh,” Laurel said, recognition dawning in her eyes.

 

“Look, Laurel, I really don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse you’ve concocted.”

 

“Felicity, you have to know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“Laurel, he was my boyfriend! What kind of twisted logic allowed you to think that was okay? I thought lawyers, especially aspiring district attorneys, were supposed to have an upstanding moral code. How long were the two of you sleeping together behind my back?”

 

“A few months, give or take. But it didn’t mean anything. Just a stupid mistake.”

 

“Carter certainly didn’t see it that way. He broke up with me because of you. You can’t tell me there weren’t any feelings there.”

 

“I love Tommy. Carter was just a fling I got out of my system. Felicity, I never meant for any of this to happen. You have to believe me. I want to marry _Tommy_.  And I want you to be up there with me tomorrow. Just tell me we’re okay.”

 

“Tonight, I’m not going to pretend it’s okay. But I’ll be there tomorrow. Because we’re family. I just hope you tell Tommy before it’s too late. It’s not fair to him, and I’m sure you don’t want him finding out like I did.”

 

“Don’t punish Oliver for this, Felicity. Feel free to blame me, blame Carter, but Oliver? He was just the innocent bystander who loved you too much to hurt you like that.” She grabbed the door handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.” The door clicked shut behind Laurel, leaving Felicity alone once more.

 

The ice cream arrived a few minutes later, but Felicity had lost her appetite. She decided to store it in the room’s mini-fridge, in the hopes that her appetite would return.

 

Her phone beeped on the other side of the room, alerting her to a new message. Expecting to see a message from maybe Sara or her mom, she instead had a notification from her PayPal app.

 

Forehead scrunched in confusion, Felicity picked up her phone and sat on the edge of the bed. She unlocked the screen to find a new deposit. Oliver had returned his fee to her--in full.

It took Felicity aback. That was something she had _not_ been expecting. It left her feeling very confused. What did this mean? Why was he giving her all of her money back?

 

Felicity had grown very accustomed to sleeping alone, or rather, learned how to manage. But tonight? It hurt more than usual. She hadn’t cried herself to sleep in quite a while, but that’s not something you grow out of, unfortunately. 


	6. Chapter 6

Felicity awoke the next morning to the sound of the room phone ringing.

 

“Hello?” She answered blearily.

 

“Good morning, Miss Smoak. This is your wake up call. Have a great time at the wedding!”

 

“Thank you,” Felicity mumbled into the receiver before replacing it on its cradle. She had forgotten about Laurel arranging wake up calls for the entire wedding party.

 

The bridesmaids were due to be in the bridal suite in an hour to get their hair and makeup done. Felicity briefly considered showing up late or not at all, but being petty wasn’t her style. She showered quickly, just taking the time to pop in her contacts, leaving everything else for whatever beauty squad Laurel had assembled. Donning the button-up shirt dress that Laurel had special-ordered for all of the bridesmaids (can’t ruin the hair and makeup!), she slid on her flip-flops and grabbed her things, tossing her shoes, jewelry, and clutch into a tote bag. Grabbing her bridesmaid dress, she made her way out of the room before she could change her mind.

 

Sara answered the knock on the door to the bridal suite.

 

“There you are! We need to talk,” she said, quickly ushering Felicity towards the room’s kitchenette, removing Felicity’s things from her arms and replacing them with a steaming cup of coffee and a glazed donut before she could respond. “What happened last night? I saw Oliver getting in a taxi with his luggage.”

 

Felicity sighed. “Has Laurel told you anything?” She dunked her donut into her coffee and took a bite.

 

“Laurel?!” Sara asked, confused. “What does she have to do with anything?”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“You can’t dangle that in front of me and not follow through.”

 

As Felicity filled Sara in, she could see the murderous glare forming on her sister’s face. “I’m going to kill her,” Sara confirmed, moving to leave the kitchen. Felicity stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

 

“Sara, don’t. It won’t solve anything.”

 

“Like hell it won’t.”

 

“Please?”

 

“Fine,” Sara said, relaxing her stance. “ Are you okay though? What about Oliver?”

 

“It just wasn’t meant to be,” Felicity concluded.

 

“I don’t believe that. Sounds to me like you’re giving up at the first sign of trouble.”

 

“Girls! There you are!” Catherine said, sweeping into the kitchen. “What’s going on? We’re waiting on you to start.”

 

“Don’t say anything,” Felicity mouthed to Sara.

 

Felicity sat dutifully in her chair, nursing a mimosa while her hair was being done. If the other bridesmaids noticed how quiet she was, they certainly didn’t say anything. Everyone else was chattering away, including Laurel, but Felicity could see Laurel’s red-rimmed eyes, not yet concealed by makeup.

 

Before long, the ladies were decked out in their dresses, a one-shouldered dress in a soft, shimmery, rose gold. When there was a knock on the door, Felicity was grateful to have an excuse to get up. Quentin had arrived to escort Laurel down to the chapel, then down the aisle.

 

“Hi Dad,” she said. “Laurel’s almost ready. You look nice,” she said, brushing a fuzzy off the lapel of his tuxedo.

 

“Come here,” Quentin said, tugging her into the hallway, escorting her to a nearby bench. “How’s my girl?”

 

“I’m fine, really,” Felicity said, staring at her feet.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Felicity. I may be getting up there, but I can still tell when someone is lying to me. That’s why I’m still employed. No offense, honey, but you look miserable.”

 

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

 

“I guess this has something to do with why Laurel came to my room crying last night?”

 

“She told you?” Felicity looked up, surprised.

 

“She feels terrible, but I have a feeling that’s not what has you down right now, am I right? You miss that Queen kid.”

 

“I do,” she admitted.

 

“Do I need to teach him a lesson?”

 

“ _NO!_ No. I think I made a mistake by making him leave. I don’t know, things are complicated.”

 

“Then let’s uncomplicate them. Do you care about him?”

 

“I do.” Felicity had to admit that she was attached to Oliver, despite her attempts to prevent that from happening. There was something between them that was worth exploring.

 

“Does he care about you?”

 

Quentin’s question was the one that had been plaguing her, especially since the night before. At the beginning of this trip, it was clear things were just business. But then the lines began to blur: once they kissed, once Oliver opened up about his past, and the kicker--when they slept together. Then he went and returned all of her money. He wouldn’t do that unless he cared, right?

 

“I think so,” she finally answered.

 

“How could he not love you?” Quentin asked, reaching for her cheek. “You’re everything a man could want.”

 

Felicity blushed, trying to duck her chin. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

 

“You know I’m not. Now listen to me. Do you want him here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then go get him.”

 

“I don’t know where he is. He’s probably already on a plane by now.”

 

“Since when do you give up so easily? I seem to recall a smart young woman who helped me find some buried information to help my cases,” he winked, knocking his shoulder with hers.

 

“I mean, I _could_ run an algorithm to search the passenger manifests of all of the outbound flights…”

 

“That’s more like it. What are you waiting for?”

 

Felicity gestured to what the two of them were wearing. “You seem to forget we already have plans.”

 

“Go. Laurel will understand.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” he said, pulling out his phone to make a call. “Sara? Can you grab Felicity’s things and bring them outside, please?”

 

Moments later, Sara appeared in the doorway with the tote bag. “Go get him,” she said with a smile.

 

Felicity quickly traded her pumps for her flip-flops before taking off down the hallway. She didn’t need a broken ankle.

 

“I call maid of honor!” Sara called after her.

 

Felicity pulled out her phone and tried to call Oliver, on the off chance that he would answer. When she got his voicemail, she resorted back to her original plan, hacking the airline reservation database. As soon as she got back in the room, she pulled out her laptop and got to work.

 

As Quentin mentioned, Felicity may have “helped” him a time or two in the past, but other than getting Oliver’s contact information from Reddit, she hadn’t done much “research” lately. Lucky for her, it was like riding a bike.

 

She quickly found all of the outbound flights that had already left early that morning, but his name did not appear on any of the manifests. Considering he had his plane ticket with him for his return flight, she concentrated her search on that airline, assuming he would try to exchange his ticket to catch an earlier flight.

 

Narrowing her search parameters helped her strike gold, as Oliver’s name appeared on a flight due to leave in about an hour. If she hurried, she just might be able to catch it before it left. Except...she didn’t have a car. Sara had picked them up from the airport. Felicity tried calling Sara, but it went straight to voicemail. The bridal party was already on their way to the chapel.

 

Felicity rushed down to the lobby, hoping to catch a cab. The concierge had disappointing news--it would take at least 25 minutes to get a cab out to the resort from the airport. Her only hope was an incoming taxi arriving sooner.

 

When a familiar yellow sedan came up the driveway a few minutes later, Felicity had to admit that perhaps fate had a role to play today, and she couldn’t be more thankful. What she didn’t account for was Oliver himself getting out of the car, in his tuxedo, no less.

 

“Hey,” she said, stunned.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting on a plane right about now?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be carrying a bouquet down the aisle right about now?”

 

“Oliver…”

 

“Felicity,” Oliver said, coming up and taking her hands in his. “Last night when we were fighting, I thought that this was over. But I never should have left last night. That was a mistake. And you know what wasn’t a mistake? Answering your call. Coming to this wedding. Meeting your family. Falling in love with you.”

 

Felicity released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “You were right about me, you know. I _was_ pushing you away, because I didn’t want to get hurt again. I just knew that you could have the ability to break my heart, and I didn’t want to give you the opportunity to do it.”

 

“And now?” Oliver asked, taking a step closer.

 

“I’m reconsidering.”

 

They were so close now, Felicity barely had to lean in to brush her lips against his. Oliver immediately moved his hands to her lower back, pulling her even closer as the kiss deepened. When Felicity pulled back to catch her breath, leaning her forehead against his, she whispered, “I would say it’s the best money I’ve ever spent, but I guess I didn’t spend anything, did I?”

 

“Yeah...about that. I’m quitting the business. Decided it was about time to live the life I really want.”

 

“And what life is that?” Felicity asked, fingers intertwined behind his neck.

 

“I’m thinking about becoming a therapist,” Oliver smiled. “Or maybe an architect.”

 

Felicity laughed. “Is that so?”

 

“Does that sound like someone you would be interested in?”

 

“Very interested.”

 

“Good,” Oliver said, kissing her again. “Do you think we missed the ceremony?”

 

“Only one way to find out,” Felicity said, holding out her hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at girlwithsixsmiles.


End file.
